The Player Knows Best
by The Amazing Anigirl
Summary: The Batter always follows the commands of the Player, no matter how strange or seemingly foolish, no matter how painful, because the Player always knows best. One shot. Based on the Special Ending.


OFF is one of those games that's criminally under-appreciated. It's also one of those games that's criminally hard to write for. I hope I did the game justice here, and I hope you enjoy this little one-shot.

* * *

From the moment the Player took control of his strings, the Batter knew he had found a worthy puppeteer.

Which was fortunate. He couldn't hope to complete his holy mission by himself, and even the ring-like companions he managed to acquire on his mission could only help so much. For a sacred quest, a purifying quest, he needed a skilled and wise player.

And skilled and wise was what he got. True, it wasn't always easy. The Player wasn't perfect, after all. Occasionally he/she/it (the Batter had no clue what gender the Player was and he didn't care either way) became agitated when a specter would suddenly pop up and engage them in battle. He could sense the Player' s fear in those moments, when the commands he/she/it gave him were frantic and not as well thought out as usual.

But those moments notwithstanding (and those moments were rare to begin with) the Player was exactly what the Batter had been hoping for when he had accepted the strings. The Player, occasional freak-outs aside, was an intelligent tactician. He/she/it managed to lead the Batter through every battle he encountered with speed and efficiency, rarely wasting items and always making sure that the Batter was in peak physical condition once he emerged from the fight.

The Player was also smart as far as commerce went, always managing to hold back from buying something long enough for Zacharie to give in and drop the price (something the merchant apparently only did for very special customers, and he always proclaimed that there was no customer more important than the video game's main character, whatever _that_ was supposed to mean). The Batter was always able to walk away from the mask-clad merchant with items and credits to burn thanks to his Player's haggling and timing.

But most of all, his Player excelled at puzzles. Which was fortunate. The Batter would have needed to think for hours to unravel some of the mysteries and riddles that he came across on his journey through the sinful Zones. But the Player could solve any puzzle presented to him/her/it in seconds. This made traversing the Zones go infinitely faster.

Yes, the Batter was proud to call the Player his own. The Player was flawed, but he/she/it was perfect for his purposes. The Player also seemed to like the puppet that he/she/it had been assigned. He/she/it always showed great concern whenever the Batter emerged from a battle even slightly scratched, and he always sensed a small spark of joy emanate from the Player when he defeated a foe or even said something that the Player found amusing. He almost wished that the Player could speak to him so that he could know his/her/its thoughts, but he didn't need to speak to his puppeteer to know that they had a good relationship, that he could trust the Player.

This was in spite of the fact that he knew nothing about the Player and the Player knew almost nothing about him. The Player didn't even really know what purification ultimately entailed. Yet when he explained his quest to the Judge (and, by extension, the Player) for the first time, the Player accepted the task with great gusto and many bursts of pride. The Player, unlike almost everyone else (except the Judge at first, and maybe Zacharie though it was really hard to tell what was going through that man's head at any given time), knew how important the quest was. And the Batter had no doubt that he could depend on the Player to help him all the way until the end.

Even when it seemed that the Player was making a mistake, even when the Batter had been mere moments from correcting the Player, the Player almost always turned out to be right.

The Player, for example, always tended to try and search every nook and cranny, look under every bed, and speak to every random Elsen that the Batter happened to cross paths with. The Batter, at first, considered this a waste of time, though Zacharie assured him that his Player was merely scrounging about for spare items and 'Easter Eggs' (whatever _those_ were supposed to be). Eggs or no, this became irritating very quickly.

Until the Player's endless scrounging resulted in him finding another ring-helper. He would have never found it if he had simply brushed past the hall like he would have if it were up to him. And ring-helpers were invaluable. He needed them to defeat the Queen and the guardians of the Zones.

That wasn't even taking into account the foes (Sugar, for example) and valuable items he managed to find because of the Player's insistence on searching every area to an almost absurd degree. Though it seemed to be a waste of time at first, he soon recognized the wisdom of his Player's actions. The Player, he consented, knew best.

He stopped doubting the Player and trained himself to follow him/her/it without question or hesitation. Doing so not only made the Player quite happy, but it allowed him to vanquish specters and guardians alike. It allowed him to become stronger and wealthier than he ever would have managed to become on his own.

So when the Player passed up what Zacharie decreed to be 'the game's ultimate weapon' in favor of some seemingly useless artifact, the Batter didn't open his mouth. _The Player knows best_ , he reminded himself, and with that he continued on his way, confident in the wisdom of his puppeteer.

And when the Player spent what must have been an hour dragging him to every bookshelf and having him read every book in the library, he didn't complain. _The Player knows best._

And when the Player refused to hand over the music box to Zacharie, silently insisting that he/she/it could figure out how to progress on his/her/its own, the Batter tucked the music box back into his pocket and allowed the Player to take his/her/its time. _The Player knows best._

No matter what, no matter how strange it might have seemed on occasions, no matter the obstacle, the Batter trusted his Player. He knew, almost as much as he knew that the world had to be purified, that at the end of the day the Player knew best.

But there were moments. Moments when it became clear that the Player was not made of steel, moments when the Player faltered.

The first moment had happened right after he arrived in Zone Three, after bumping into Zacharie. The merchant was wearing a ridiculous cat mask (and even meowed for effect). At first, the Batter sensed that the Player was more than amused by this, but when the Batter asked where the Judge was and Zacharie informed them that the feline was 'under the weather', the Player became concerned. The Player had a kind heart, and he/she/it was no doubt worried about the Judge, especially since the last guardian they had defeated, Japhet, had taken over the body of the Judge's beloved brother. In purifying Japhet, they also ended up purifying Valerie.

The Player had, of course, known that it had to be done. But still the Batter felt a flood of worry and even a twinge of guilt through the strings, informing him of his puppeteer's emotional state and of his/her/its desire to go back and make sure that the cat was all right.

It was the first time in what felt like forever that the Batter actually found himself verbally disagreeing with his precious puppeteer. It wasn't even that he thought that such a mission was pointless or a waste of time-the Player knows best, after all, and if the Player felt that the Judge's happiness was important, the Batter would do everything in his power to rectify the situation.

But the Batter knew full well what the purified Zone would look like, and although he knew that at the end of the day his wise Player would understand, he didn't like the idea of him/her/it being introduced to the pure Zone right then and there. It would be…awkward, to say the least.

So he argued.

"Player, there's no need for this. We only have one more Zone…"

"Player, if the Judge was in trouble, we would know of it…"

"Player, we have Zacharie as our guide and helper. We don't need the Judge right now…"

"Player, there's no need to return to Zone Two…"

"Player, let's just go."

But the Player ignored his counsel and dragged the Batter to the purified Zone.

The Batter felt his body tense up when he arrived at the Zone and his Player saw what had become of the once vibrantly colorful and Elsen-populated world.

Gray. Cold. Empty.

Slowly, the Player led the Batter through the bleak area. The Batter could feel his blood begin to congeal as each step sent another torrent of dejected surprise through his strings, informing him that the Player was woefully confused and didn't at all like what he/she/it was seeing.

It wasn't long before they climbed the tower and found the Judge. No longer was the feline purring and grinning. Now his face was set in what seemed to be a grimace. He kept calling out over and over again, his mournful meow echoing through the dreary wasteland.

The Batter wanted to go back. The last thing he wanted to do was speak to the Judge. But the Player forced him to walk up to the Judge, and the Batter decided that it would be improper to stand so close to the cat and remain totally silent. He appeased his puppeteer by opening his mouth and asking a brusque question.

"What are you doing?"

The feline didn't even look at him. He continued to stare out at the emptiness as he replied, "I am meowing at my lung's fullest. I would even argue that the echo that reverberates back to me is the voice of someone I know…"

The Batter could practically _feel_ his Player's heart drop at that, and as if that wasn't enough…

"Have you seen my dear brother?"

He wanted to kick the cat. It wasn't the Batter's fault, it wasn't the Player's fault, but the cat just _had_ to yank at his compassionate Player's heartstrings. The Player was inactive for long enough that the Batter felt a stab of fear. Had his precious puppeteer abandoned him? He could still sense the Player's somber presence, but he feared that he would feel him/her/it fade away soon.

But fortunately, the Player returned to his/her/its senses and dragged the Batter away from the sorrowful Judge and out of the blank Zone. The Player stayed with him, and after a few fights with some specters and sugar-obsessed Elsens he felt his Player's heart rise as adrenaline and the joy of victory lifted his/her/its spirits. The Player had faltered, but he/she/it came back swinging, and the Batter felt a surge of something resembling affection on his Player's behalf. The Player had seen what purification did to a Zone, and yet he/she/it did not abandon him or try and sabotage his mission. The Player was still with him. The Player could be trusted. _The Player knows best._

But soon, another faltering moment came. It was when they were on the monorail in Zone Three. While Zacharie was busily yapping the Batter's ear off and the Player was busy playfully enjoying his/her/its puppet's aggravation, the monorail suddenly came to a halt. Something, or, rather, someone was blocking the monorail. An Elsen. The Batter, naturally, drew his trusty bat, summoned Alpha, Omega, and Epsilon to his side, and awaited the Player's orders.

The Player eagerly struck first, then stepped back and waited to see what the Elsen would do.

It didn't attack. It didn't screech.

All it did was huff.

 _"Help…Help…Help…"_

The Player's mood shifted from one of energized enthusiasm to confusion, hesitancy. He/she/it didn't give the Batter another order, and he was practically drowned in the Player's horror when Epsilon ended up striking the tainted Elsen anyway.

" _Help…Help…"_

The Batter could tell that the Player dearly wanted to, that the benevolent puppeteer didn't want to hurt a creature that was only seeking assistance, but they simply didn't have the time or ability to help the Elsen.

"Player, we have to purify it," he said as the Player continued to dawdle. "We have no time. We must get to the guardian. There's no way of helping the Elsen."

The Player hesitated for a few more moments before he/she/it at last gave the Batter a command to fight. But the Player gave no specific commands. There were no pulls on the Batter's strings. The Batter defeated the Elsen by himself.

It was an unpleasant experience. Once he was done, the Player took up his strings once more and the Batter returned to the monorail, where a smug Zacharie was waiting.

"So," cooed the merchant in the cat mask, "what's blocking the path?"

He felt a flare of guilt from the Player, but they continued on their mission from there and the Elsen was, apparently, forgotten.

But the final, fatal falter, the falter he shouldn't have underestimated, came at the very end.

Hugo.

He tried to make it quick, he tried to be comforting, he tried to assure the child that there would be no more darkness once this was through. He thought that the Player would see that, that the Player would help him get this unpleasantness over with so that their mission could be finished.

But every hit that the Player helped him to deliver to the sickly boy was given with disgust and vain hope. Hope that somehow or another, the Batter was right. Maybe there was something about purification that he/she/it just didn't get. Maybe it would be all right.

So the Player helped, but the process was slow, torturously slow, and by the time the child was purified and the Room became gray…

He felt it. He felt the Player's astonishment and revulsion, but he took it with a grain of salt. They were so close now. So close. Just a little further and they would be all right, the quest would be complete.

All thanks to his Player. His Player had been there with him every step of the way. His Player had given him the strength he needed. His Player had always known best. His Player wouldn't abandon him now, that much he knew.

He had been a measly foot from the Switch, from total purification…

When that damn cat arrived, spouting off some nonsense about monsters and blackened souls. The Judge's grin had become a toothy frown, so the urge to wipe the smile off the feline's face could no longer apply to the Batter, but nonetheless he was ready for one final fight with his Player at his side before his holy mission was finally completed.

But then the Judge turned his eyes upward and cried, "Player! Join me. Expatiate the sins with me that we are guilty of by preventing this monster from completing his work."

He almost snorted at that.

"Don't do that. I need you in order to purify this world," he said to his faithful Player, more for formality's sake than anything. The arrogant little kitten! Did he honestly think that the Player, the intelligent Player, would fall for his pretty words? Did he honestly think that the Player would break away from his/her its puppet? A foolish notion. The Player would never betray him. The Player had promised to help him until the end. The Player knew better. The Player knew best.

But still the Judge blabbered on. "The time has now come to render your final and futile judgment, Player."

The Batter drew his weapon and prepared for the Player to send signals of amusement down his strings, to assure his/her/its precious puppet that it would do no such thing, to pull the Batter into battle against the Judge.

Instead, a long period of silence and confusion followed. The Player made no movements, and the Batter became concerned that perhaps something had happened to his puppeteer.

Then he felt a sharp pain as the strings were yanked off of him.

It took a moment for him to process what was happening. Surely this wasn't the case. Surely the Player wouldn't…

But the strings were gone, and for the first time in so long the Batter was completely alone. The Batter had become so accustomed to the Player's presence that suddenly being cut off from his precious puppeteer was the equivalent of suddenly having his arm ripped off.

No. Worse. His heart. He felt like the Player had torn out his heart right along with his strings.

The pain became even worse when the Batter watched the Player's strings, the strings that rightfully should have been guiding him, fly to the Judge and attach themselves to the feline. The cat stiffened and the hair on his back stood erect, but he inhaled deeply as he submitted to the Player's will.

"That choice was, even though pathetically useless, I think, the right one," said the cat with a small nod upwards.

The feline turned his attention back to the lonesome Batter.

"And now, Batter," he hissed, "Taste our revanchist thirst for justice of no avail."

 _Our._

 _Player…why?_ thought the Batter, and he had never felt so lost. The Player was siding with the Judge. The Player was betraying him.

He had trusted the Player. The Player was supposed to be smart. The Player was supposed to know how important this quest was. The Player…

The Player was with the Judge now. The Player hated him now. The Player thought he was a monster.

And the Player made the cat lunge at him.

He could have easily destroyed the cat. The Player had given him such strength that, even without his puppeteer guiding his hand, the Batter could have easily squashed the little feline and flipped the switch.

But he didn't.

Half-hearted swats were the most he could manage, and the Player's new puppet easily dodged those. No damage was done to the Judge or the Player. The Batter somehow couldn't force himself to fight with all of his strength. He felt as hollow and gray as a purified Zone. He felt empty.

And so he took the damage, all the way until he was on the ground.

"Your demented crusade ends here," bragged the Judge, "Die, Batter, with the eternal souvenir of not having conducted your sad scheme to its end."

"It's too late," he said, not to the cat, but to the one pulling its strings. "Everything is lost."

Lost. He had lost. So close and he had just _lost._ He hadn't fought like he should have. He hadn't turned everything off.

But perhaps that was all right. Because the Player, ultimately, hadn't wanted him to flip the switch.

 _And,_ he reminded himself as the Judge delivered the final blow, _the Player knows best._

* * *

So, if you don't know, this is based off of the special Judge ending for OFF, where the Judge defeats the Batter. It always astounded me that the Judge as able to accomplish this, even with the Player's help, given how powerful the Player made the Judge just to get up to that point. Powerful though the Judge may be, the Batter defeated the Queen herself. Not only that: have you noticed that the Batter does pretty much NO damage to the Judge during this fight?

Well, this is my interpretation of why.

I REALLY want to know your thoughts on this one. This is a game I've never really written for, and I'd love to know what you folks out there thought of my little interpretation. Please oh please review! I'll have Zacharie give you all luck tickets if you do!

Also, if you happen to be a Hetalia fan, go check out the long fanfic I'm doing, _The Boy Who Lived._ And if you're a FNAF fan, go check out the long fanfic I'm doing for that, _A Story Ever Vile._

Thanks a bunch for reading, guys! Please review!


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